


Neither Mamie Johnson Nor the Queers Can Play Baseball

by thequietdawn



Category: A League of Their Own (1992)
Genre: F/F, Gen, Period-Typical Homophobia, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-09 11:19:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8888824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequietdawn/pseuds/thequietdawn
Summary: Kit discovers she's living with a lesbian and tries to come to terms with her roommate's relationship.





	

**Author's Note:**

> For hauntedd. This is both everything you asked for, and none of what you asked for, all at the same time. I hope you like!

**1954**

_Dearest Dottie-_

_It was such a wonderful surprise to get to New York and find that Mae is here as well; we've decided to room together and see how long our bank accounts will last us. Probably a while, since the apartment is ridiculously inexpensive and we don't eat very much. We're not in a bad neighborhood or anything, it's a bit noisy, but nothing like those nights we'd have to sleep with the cows during that vandalism epidemic._

_I was disappointed you couldn't make it to the last game. We didn't win, but the fans all cheered for us anyway._

"Hey! Whatcha writin'?"

Kit looked up. Doris was over. Again. 

She shrugged. "Letter to my sister."

"Eh," Doris waved a hand dismissively. 

_You remember Doris, right? She's over here all the time. She has her own place, but she likes ours better, she says._

"Say hello for us," Mae said, and Kit smiled. Doris was rough all around, and Mae tried, but she was only rough around the edges.

_They send their warmest regards and wish you the best of luck with the new baby. I'll try to come visit in a few months, once things have settled down. Sorry this isn't longer, you know I'm terrible at letters._

_Love, Sis_

**1959**

_Dearest Dottie-_

_It's been a while since we've spoken. I understand you're upset that I'm still in New York, and still living with Mae, but I'm not a lesbian just because I live with Mae, even though "there's no baseball anymore"! I may have "questionable morals" and be "unmarriageable" but I'm not that way._

"Wasting your time on another letter?" Doris called from the kitchen.

"Hush," Kit said. "I like writing them. Besides, she thinks I'm a lesbian. I have to set her straight."

"Nobody gettin' set straight around here!" Doris said, and Mae laughed from the living room. What had been a sparse apartment was looking homely now, thanks to Mae. The living room was adorned with seating, not that they had many guests, with a beautiful rug Mae had picked up from Chinatown - a place Kit was still too afraid to go to.

"You'll scare her away," Mae said, coming to stand in the doorway, cigarette in hand. "Kit, don't listen. She's just riling you up." To Doris, "Don't do it, you'll scare her away."

"Don't do what?" Kit asked, staring down at the letter. 

"Tell you _we're_ the lesbians," Doris said, a grin on her face.

Kit turned back to the letter, frowning.

_You've gone and riled up Doris, she's quite upset about the whole thing._

When she looked up, both women were watching her intently. Mae looked concerned and had started a new cigarette. Doris looked like someone had just handed her a 20 oz porterhouse and told her it was free.

"You can't be lesbians," Kit said. 

Doris looked amused. "I can't be?"

"Stop it," Mae said. "She's a good roommate and I won't be able to find another one." She pouted. "I need a good roommate."

"Both of you?" Kit pressed. 

Mae looked uncomfortable and glanced nervously at Doris. Doris let out an exasperated sigh, much like Kit would after walking into the barn and seeing it was going to be a long day. 

"Josephine," Mae said, and Doris paled slightly.

"No," Doris said after a moment. "No, just me."

_You're lucky you're my only sister or I'd be tempted to never write to you again, saying such a thing! We're roommates because it's cheaper. I'm still trying to find a guy, but all the ones that don't want me to be ladylike are creepers._

She didn't sign the letter. When she finished addressing the envelope, she was surprised to find it was just her and Mae in the apartment. 

"Doris thinks they'll ask for the rings back," Mae explained. "The League. From our championships. She's gone to go hide 'em. Or sell 'em. One or the other."

Kit was confused. "Why?"

"Neither Mamie Johnson nor the queers-" and Mae's face twisted at the word as she quoted Meyerhoff, "can play baseball." She pointed at the letter, "And whatever you're stirring up. Honestly, I wish she'd never told you, your farm girl innocence hasn't worn off, you were completely oblivious."

"I didn't say anything in the letter," Kit said. "Just told her I wasn't a lesbian."

Mae looked confused, then relieved, then like she was going to cry. "You're not saying nothing?" she asked, and her voice cracked.

"It's-" she wanted to say _immoral and wrong_ , but thought better of it. They were her friends after all. "I say something and Dottie'll show up and drag me back to Oregon," Kit said. Mae moved in to hug her, but Kit quickly stepped back. Mae recoiled, and looked like a kicked puppy.

"You gonna move out?"

**1964**

_Dearest Dottie-_

_I wish to offer my congratulations on the new baby. I'm sure BJ is excited to have a little sister. Things are quiet around here._

There was a equanimity in the apartment. Doris hadn't been around in months, and Mae spent more and more of her time in her room. Kit found herself bored with the silence. She hadn't moved out, and none of them had said anything about it since that conversation. 

Kit didn't know how she felt about it, besides weird, but the apartment was cheap and they didn't talk about it. Things hadn't quite gone back to normal, but they hadn't radically changed either. Doris had still been coming around, and they'd have coffee and discuss how they weren't about to become real ladies. They'd discuss their "inappropriate" jobs and Kit could forget they'd ever had a conversation about lesbians. 

Then suddenly, earlier that year, with no warning, Doris wasn't there any more. All Mae would say is there'd been a fight, but Kit knew it was more than that.

Now, and as there had been for several months, it was just Kit and silence. 

_A little too quiet, and you know me, I can't stand the quiet._.

Kit left the letter there, having made up her mind to do something. Julius' wasn't far, and she knew Doris and Mae frequented there often. Or had, before Doris had stopped coming along. The bar wasn't too far from the apartment, nor was it too crowded when Kit walked in.

The bartender gave her a once over, then decided she was harmless.

"Sit wherever you'd like," he said. 

Kit shook her head, keeping her hands in her pockets. "I'm looking for Doris."

"Doris?" A man at the bar said; he was sitting next to his friend, and Kit knew they were more than just friends. She shivered. 

"Yea," she said, trying not to be scared. "Doris."

"I don't think we've seen her, hun. Pop up, have a seat." He patted the chair next to him. Someone else laughed.

Before she could answer, Doris came out of seemingly nowhere. "Be nice," she said. "That's Mae's country cousin."

Kit had a feeling country cousin was a way of calling her stupid, but the man just smiled and nodded, then said, "Mae send you?"

Kit shook her head. "No. I just need to talk to Doris."

"Anyone else send you?" the man asked again. Doris waved him off, "She doesn't even know who she'd send. C'mon, Kit, let's take a walk."

Kit shivered once back outside, though the air was warm and still. Doris looked furious. "What are you doing here? You _didn't_ bring anyone with you, did you?"

Kit shook her head, "You gotta come back, Doris. It's miserable without you."

Doris narrowed her eyes. "No," she said. "It's not that simple. You don't like me, and Mae can't be honest about who she is. Jo didn't- well, nevermind. Jo didn't give her up and it changed her, a little. A lot guilt to live with. She had to make it staying worth something. Not that you'd know anything about that."

The streets weren't busy, but Kit was still nervous. She didn't like this part of town, and Doris was right about the first part at least. She figured the second bit had to do with why the three of them had never talked about anything before. She scuffed her toes on the ground. "So?" she asked, getting angrier, but not knowing why. "So what of any of it?"

Doris said nothing, then sighed heavily. "Fine. I'll at least go talk to her."

_I wrote too soon. Doris and Mae are having a giant argument in the living room, only they're trying to pretend they're not having it. Mae's sent me out twice now for cigarettes, which means things are going well._

_I imagine it's quite noisy there with the baby. I'd love to come get a change of scenery, if you don't mind._

Doris and Mae had sneaked off to Mae's room, but the walls were thin enough that they didn't hide what was going on.

_Soon, please._

_Love, Kit_

**1969**

"Kit?" The voice on the phone was scratchy; the connection wasn't the greatest on the farm in Oregon. There was only one person Kit had left Dottie's number with.

"Mae?" Kit tried not to shout. It was late into the night in Oregon, and very early in the morning in New York. The phone had woken Bob, who was standing at the top of the stairs, watching Kit. She tried to wave him off, but he crossed his arms and stared at her. "Mae, is everything okay?"

"... Doris … arrested … arm … police … escape … house …" the connection cut in and out and Kit couldn't piece it all together. She gripped the phone tightly. Something had happened, something bad. She knew now what she hadn't only a few years before, that Doris and Mae were risking a lot just by going out to the bars, even with Lindsay trying his best to accommodate them in the city. They still hadn't officially talked about it - or their weird living situation where Mae and Kit were still renting together and Doris lived separately - but Kit had come to find that maybe they weren't as awful as society made them to be - they certainly weren't mentally ill. Maybe just a little confused, but life was confusing, and she hadn't figured it all out either.

Kit looked up at Bob, still standing there, seething, and tried to remain calm on the phone. "Look, Mae, I'll be home in three days. I have to go." Without waiting for a reply, she hung up the phone.

"I'll drive you to the station in the morning."

It was Dottie, though, who was ready in the morning to drive her to the train station.

"You shouldn't go," Dottie said. "Whatever happened, you shouldn't go. You said you'd stay through the end of June at least."

"It is the end of June," Kit protested. "Besides, Mae needs me. She wouldn't have called if she didn't."

Dottie looked at her sister, her jaw set, but her eyes tender. "Oh, Kit. I worry about you."

Kit rolled her eyes, "I'll be fine. Really. They need me. I keep 'em together, y'know? Mae would never leave her room otherwise, and Doris wouldn't have anyone to feel smugly superior to."

This earned a laugh from Dottie. Then she sobered up. "I'm always here for you. Whatever you need. Just please don't be a lesbian."

Kit pondered this for a moment. "That's not the worst thing I could be," she said. 

It had taken her ten years, but she finally understood.

**Author's Note:**

> I would be remiss if I didn't mention that Josephine D'Angelo was kicked out of the League for being gay, and Mamie Johnson was denied the chance to ever play for the League for being Black. The quote from Meyerhoff is made up, but very much in line with the sentiments at the time.


End file.
